


Promise of Love

by StoriesWhispered



Series: Bellarke AU Week [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke AU Week, F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a view into the lovely couple life, this is basically fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:30:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7708021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesWhispered/pseuds/StoriesWhispered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 7 -  AU of your choice -  I went Modern AU</p>
<p>He extends his hand, she bites her lip, eyes bright, takes it; his hand swallows hers and for a moment he’s thrilled by their contrast, all at once ready to find a way to fit together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I finished the week! Enjoy the fluff!

Bellamy hears her laugh from across the room, it’s uncaringly loud, bright in it’s uniqueness; curious, he follows it across the crowded party. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but Miller wasn’t it, he’s smiling and talking with his hands, something he does when he’s extremely drunk and clearly comfortable. The short blonde, who lets out another shriek of laughter, as Miller clearly drops the punchline of his drunken joke, is also unexpected. She’s not his usual type, he thinks, as they both clink glasses and down a shot, but he’s not blind, and anyone who gets along with Miller is already winning in his book.

He approaches, beer in hand and ups his charming smile, clapping Miller’s back and shooting her a look. 

“Hey man, I lost you in the crowd,” Miller is grinning, so very, very drunk but still an excellent wingman, launching his arm around him. 

“Bell-la-ME, have you met Clarke,” he exclaims, turning towards her, “Clark-y, this is my best friend.” 

He all but pushes him forward and suddenly he’s less than a foot away, she’s grinning up at him, “Hi,” she whispers.

“Hey,” he feels a sudden fondness for his best friend and the color blue. 

He extends his hand, she bites her lip, eyes bright, takes it; his hand swallows hers and for a moment he’s thrilled by their contrast, all at once ready to find a way to fit together.

***********

They’re not perfect, not by a long shot.

In fact, Bellamy realizes quickly that it’s not just their physicalities that are polar opposites, that part is easy.

He’s tall, she’s short; it’s endearing to see her stand on tiptoes, plant a kiss on his jaw, or for him to lean down, trap her against his large frame. 

Simple, but a relationship can’t just be making out in between classes and work shifts, in the backseats of cars. They text when they're apart, and talk about everything that has ever happened in their lives and everything they want to happen in the future in between seriously long makeout sessions. 

It is weird to find out how much money she does have, but he quickly realizes, it is not her money. She couldn’t help who her parents were anymore than he could. At eighteen, branching out into the world, fighting tooth and nail to be her own person; angry, confused but willing the world bend to her will, not because of who her parents were but of who she is, for the person she will become. She’s too much like Octavia in that regard for him to hold it against her, maybe when he was younger and poorer but he worked hard to not be who he was destined to be, he had no right to judge her for her background than anyone did to him. 

Still, it sometimes feels like chasm that they can’t bridge, until she stops talking of the places she’s been and starts talking about places they should visit, together. And he can’t stop the smile on his face whenever she sings Rich Girl by Hall and Oates, dancing around him, bright and happy. 

It’s easy, when it turns out she knows Octavia, moreover is friends with her. They get along like a house on fire, and it should scare Bellamy but oddly enough he trust Clarke with her. Although, he did give Clarke a driving lesson, not because he fears for his life when she drives, he assures her but for Octavia’s. Something in her eyes dimmed when they talked that night, but she stopped being so reckless, a week later she had lunch with her mom, after three months of radio silence. 

And when Octavia starts dating Lincoln, Clarke is there as the mediator. Refusing to choose sides, snipping at of them, until they agreed for a family dinner. Lincoln and Clarke have a standing date every Tuesday after that, a bond brought on by the Blake’s epic showdown, that cannot be broken.

So, yes, being with Clarke is impossibly easy, but not perfect. 

Bellamy stares at the ring, no not perfect, not yet.

****

Bellamy has never wrestled with his feeling for Clarke, not once, he had heard, seen her, touched her and not once did he think he was moving too fast. In fact, most days it felt like they were moving too slow, like the world couldn't catch up.

But, it’s been less than a year and they are so young. So he asks her to move in first, that’s a logical step; she says yes so fast, incredibly excited but nervous about telling her parents. 

They don't react well, but she stands strong beside him and he feels nothing but pride as her chin juts out defiantly. It turns out to be the perfect armor against her mom's snide remarks and dad's disappointed face, still he feels crushing relief when they leave together. 

He vows not to doubt her, her parents are the ones that don't believe in her choices, he knows she stands by her decisions. He vows not be a mistake.

**

They don't have a housewarming party, because they have too much stuff, anyway. It piles up everywhere but mostly in the tiny kitchen, with gadgets neither of them know how to use for food that they never make. There's a Murphy’s Pizza Pies and Green Chinese Palace, less than two blocks away; they make do and learn to not set the apartment on fire.

But their closet is a mess too, neither of them shared that space before. 

They try three organizational routines before giving up and hoping they can find clean clothes when they need to leave the apartment. 

It ends up with some spectacular embarrassing moments and sex in the oddest of places, when one of them realizes they’re wearing each other's clothes (he was late and he could not handle going commando). 

It also leads to a blow up fight about Harry Potter and legitimacy of Slytherin House, when he finds her full House uniform, including the socks. The fight goes on for days, ending with her tying him to the bed with her green and silver scarf and leaving the apartment. He swears he still has the scars to prove it and she still won't tell him where she learned to tie those knots.

Three months later, when he finally proposes, they still don’t have a party. Miller builds them a closet organizer, claiming he has been scarred enough times in this lifetime, but it’s her mom that sends a CrockPot with a small journal filled in with handwritten recipes.

Bellamy grins when Clarke leans over and kisses him on cheek, “Welcome to the family, babe.”

*****

Bellamy wakes up to cacophony of noise; a thump, followed by muttered obscenities, two subsequent thumps, accompanied with a hiss of pain and another curse.

“We have a lamp and you have a flashlight on your phone,” he says, not moving from his spot on the bed.

“Shh, trying not to wake you.”

“My wife, quiet and graceful, you are not.”

“Rude,” there’s another thump, but he’s sure those are her shoes being dropped. 

“You have fun?”

“The best,” she’s closer now, the bed dips, as she crawls underneath the covers, pulling them away from him.

“Those are mine, also you smell like a bar.”

He can’t see it but he knows she’s pouting, but then he feels a cold hands reaching for him and he yelps.

“No, no cuddles for you, drunky.”

“Not drunk, virgin margaritas for me.” 

He hums agreeably, wrapping an arm around her, because he is weak, when he processes her sentence. 

“Clarke,” he opens one eye, she’s staring right at him, waiting for him to get it, he drops his forehead to hers, without breaking eye contact. 

“Clarke,” he tries again but can’t, she’s grinning. “That’s me, your wife and mother to your unborn child”

Fuck.

He kisses her, but it’s hard when they’re both grinning, still, he tries, pulling her closer before giving up and burying his face in her neck.

Her small hands are tracing a soothing pattern across his back and he tries sinking deeper into her. 

She reaches for his hand, he lets her pull him into her, squeezing gently, “Welcome to the rest of your life, _dad_.”

He laughs, trying not to cry, “I think I can handle that.”

****

They name her Cassandra and he handles it the best he can, and he does a lot better than he thought he would.

Then again, Bellamy has always been better with Clarke.


End file.
